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My sister recently got married. Unfortunately for her standing in the Women’s Lib movement, she decided to take her husband’s last name. Changing your name requires a bit of paperwork. A bit. Of. Paperwork. Kasey, my sister, didn’t want to go alone, so I volunteered to keep her company while she went to the Social Security Office to submit her forms. I had never been to the Social Security Office or changed my name before, so I figured I’d log my experience and share my findings with you in the form of liveblog.

1:55 pm

We arrive at the Social Security Office. It’s a new building, a mix of concrete and brick of varying brown tones. It’s a single room connected to a corridor lined with windows where clerks sit. In the room there are roughly twenty or so chairs. We walk through the glass doors and are immediately met by a security guard telling me to leave my drink at the door. I told him to leave his attitude at his stupid little booth thing.

2:15 pm

I sneak back into the office through a side door. My sister is sitting quietly, holding her marriage license, name-change forms, and some other piece of paper that I later found out was a death note the security guard had handed my sister to give to me.

2:24 pm

I take a moment to put together an inventory of those in the office with me. There are people of all shapes, sizes, colors, creeds, and pant sizes. Across the aisle from me sits a glassy-eyed Hispanic man with two prosthetic legs. He looks out through the glass doors, looking at someone beyond my range of vision, and runs his index finger across his throat. He then looks at me and quickly averts his gaze. This is the last day I will spend on Earth.

2:46 pm

This is so goddamn boring. A man enters who looks a lot like Hurley from LOST. His odor is horrific. He’s with his mother and father. His father has a tube running from a bag and into the back of his leg, which is in a cast, so I can’t see EXACTLY where the tube ends.

Smelly Hurley sits down next to me and almost immediately falls asleep. While he’s sleeping I spray him with some Febreeze I got from a custodian. I receive high fives and appreciative nods from everyone in the room. His dad gives me four dollars.

2:58 pm

A child, his mother, and grandmother come in and sit across from me, next to the Hispanic gentleman who I believe will be my killer. The child, who is having to sit with his mother from a lack of chair space, squirms about for a few minutes, grunting and occasionally making guttural noises of impatience and restlessness. Finally, someone leaves and the boy gets a chair to himself. He is now sitting directly in front of me. I’m looking out the window when I hear a small voice begin to sing the “Happy Birthday” song. I turn to find the source and it’s the boy. He’s looking directly at me–singing to me. “Happy birthday, dear mister, happy birthday to you.” He smiles at the end of every verse and points to the Hispanic gentleman. I can feel a cold chill run up my spine. I get up and walk to read some free literature about getting a work visa.

3:03 pm

Not-so-stinky Hurley wakes up and smells himself. He smiles, picks his nose, and goes back to sleep.

3:06 pm

I’m now standing next to the brochures. Now I’m reading about my W-9. A boy next to me is taking brochures out of their designated slots and mixing them around. The Security Guard (Or Security Tard as I call him) came up to us. He scolded the boy and put all the brochures back. His arm hairs brushed my own. I felt an energy, a symmetry. I took this as a green light to grab his gun, because now it’s our gun.

3:30 pm

I was wrong. It was not our gun. The gun belonged to the United States Government.

3:37 pm

Sam Miller come bail me out of jail.

So that was my stay at the Social Security Office. What did you think? Write me soon.